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Thursday, July 14, 2011

About love greek style

It's a long read, so all fangirls may skip that part, keke...Because Lidia started it^^

From
Plato's Symposium

Socrates defines 'Love' by telling what he once learned from
Diotima:

And now, taking my leave of you, I would rehearse a tale of love which
I heard from Diotima of Mantineia, a woman wise in this and in many other
kinds of knowledge, who in the days of old, when the Athenians offered
sacrifice before the coming of the plague, delayed the disease ten years.
She was my instructress in the art of love, and I shall repeat to you what
she said to me, beginning with the admissions made by Agathon, which are
nearly if not quite the same which I made to the wise woman when she questioned
me-I think that this will be the easiest way, and I shall take both parts
myself as well as I can. As you, Agathon, suggested, I must speak first
of the being and nature of Love, and then of his works. First I said to
her in nearly the same words which he used to me, that Love was a mighty
god, and likewise fair and she proved to me as I proved to him that, by
my own showing, Love was neither fair nor good.

"What do you mean, Diotima," I said, "is love then evil and foul?" "Hush,"
she cried; "must that be foul which is not fair?" "Certainly," I said.
"And is that which is not wise, ignorant? do you not see that there is
a mean between wisdom and ignorance?" "And what may that be?" I said. "Right
opinion," she replied; "which, as you know, being incapable of giving a
reason, is not knowledge (for how can knowledge be devoid of reason? nor
again, ignorance, for neither can ignorance attain the truth), but is clearly
something which is a mean between ignorance and wisdom." "Quite true,"
I replied. "Do not then insist," she said, "that what is not fair is of
necessity foul, or what is not good evil; or infer that because love is
not fair and good he is therefore foul and evil; for he is in a mean between
them."

"Well," I said, "Love is surely admitted by all to be a great god."
"By those who know or by those who do not know?" "By all." "And how, Socrates,"
she said with a smile, "can Love be acknowledged to be a great god by those
who say that he is not a god at all?" "And who are they?" I said. "You
and I are two of them," she replied. "How can that be?" I said. "It is
quite intelligible," she replied; "for you yourself would acknowledge that
the gods are happy and fair of course you would-would to say that any god
was not?"

"Certainly not," I replied. "And you mean by the happy, those who are
the possessors of things good or fair?" "Yes." "And you admitted that Love,
because he was in want, desires those good and fair things of which he
is in want?" "Yes, I did." "But how can he be a god who has no portion
in what is either good or fair?" "Impossible." "Then you see that you also
deny the divinity of Love."

"What then is Love?" I asked; "Is he mortal?" "No." "What then?" "As
in the former instance, he is neither mortal nor immortal, but in a mean
between the two." "What is he, Diotima?" "He is a great spirit (daimon),
and like all spirits he is intermediate between the divine and the mortal."
"And what," I said, "is his power?"

"He interprets," she replied, "between gods and men, conveying and taking
across to the gods the prayers and sacrifices of men, and to men the commands
and replies of the gods; he is the mediator who spans the chasm which divides
them, and therefore in him all is bound together, and through him the arts
of the prophet and the priest, their sacrifices and mysteries and charms,
and all, prophecy and incantation, find their way. For God mingles not
with man; but through Love. all the intercourse, and converse of god with
man, whether awake or asleep, is carried on. The wisdom which understands
this is spiritual; all other wisdom, such as that of arts and handicrafts,
is mean and vulgar. Now these spirits or intermediate powers are many and
diverse, and one of them is Love.

"And who," I said, "was his father, and who his mother?" "The tale,"
she said, "will take time; nevertheless I will tell you. On the birthday
of Aphrodite there was a feast of the gods, at which
the god Poros or Plenty, who is the son of Metis or Discretion, was
one of the guests. When the feast was over, Penia or Poverty, as the manner
is on such occasions, came about the doors to beg. Now Plenty who was the
worse for nectar (there was no wine in those days), went into the garden
of Zeus and fell into a heavy sleep, and Poverty considering her own straitened
circumstances, plotted to have a child by him, and accordingly she lay
down at his side and conceived love, who partly because he is naturally
a lover of the beautiful, and because Aphrodite
is herself beautiful, and also because he was born on her birthday,
is her follower and attendant. And as his parentage is, so also are his
fortunes. In the first place he is always poor, and anything but tender
and fair, as the many imagine him; and he is rough and squalid, and has
no shoes, nor a house to dwell in; on the bare earth exposed he lies under
the open heaven, in-the streets, or at the doors of houses, taking his
rest; and like his mother he is always in distress.
"Like his father too, whom he also partly resembles,
he is always plotting against the fair and good; he is bold, enterprising,
strong, a mighty hunter, always weaving some intrigue or other, keen in
the pursuit of wisdom, fertile in resources; a philosopher at all times,
terrible as an enchanter, sorcerer, sophist. He is by nature neither mortal
nor immortal, but alive and flourishing at one moment when he is in plenty,
and dead at another moment, and again alive by reason of his father's nature.
But that which is always flowing in is always flowing out, and so he is
never in want and never in wealth; and, further, he is in a mean between
ignorance and knowledge.
"The truth of the matter is this: No god is a philosopher.
or seeker after wisdom, for he is wise already; nor does any man who is
wise seek after wisdom. Neither do the ignorant seek after Wisdom. For
herein is the evil of ignorance, that he who is neither good nor wise is
nevertheless satisfied with himself: he has no desire for that of which
he feels no want."

"But-who then, Diotima," I said, "are the lovers of wisdom, if they
are neither the wise nor the foolish?" "A child may answer that question,"
she replied; "they are those who are in a mean between the two; Love is
one of them. For wisdom is a most beautiful thing, and Love is of the beautiful;
and therefore Love is also a philosopher: or lover of wisdom, and being
a lover of wisdom is in a mean between the wise and the ignorant. And of
this too his birth is the cause;
for his father is wealthy and wise, and his mother poor and foolish.
Such, my dear Socrates, is the nature of the spirit Love. The error in
your conception of him was very natural, and as I imagine from what you
say, has arisen out of a confusion of love and the beloved, which made
you think that love was all beautiful. For the beloved is the truly beautiful,
and delicate, and perfect, and blessed; but the principle of love is of
another nature, and is such as I have described."

I said, "O thou stranger woman, thou sayest well; but, assuming Love
to be such as you say, what is the use of him to men?" "That, Socrates,"
she replied, "I will attempt to unfold: of his nature and birth I have
already spoken; and you acknowledge that love is of the beautiful. But
some one will say: Of the beautiful in what, Socrates and Diotima?-or rather
let me put the question more dearly, and ask: When a man loves the beautiful,
what does he desire?" I answered her "That the beautiful
may be his." "Still," she said, "the answer suggests a further question:
What is given by the possession of beauty?"

"To what you have asked," I replied, "I have no answer ready." "Then,"
she said, "Let me put the word 'good' in the place of the beautiful, and
repeat the question once more: If he who loves good, what is it then that
he loves? "The possession of the good," I said. "And what does he gain
who possesses the good?" "Happiness," I replied; "there is less difficulty
in answering that question." "Yes," she said, "the happy are made happy
by the acquisition of good things. Nor is there any need to ask why a man
desires happiness; the answer is already final."

"You are right." I said. "And is this wish and this desire common to
all? and do all men always desire their own good, or only some men?-what
say you?" "All men," I replied; "the desire is common to all." "Why, then,"
she rejoined, "are not all men, Socrates, said to love, but only some them?
whereas you say that all men are always loving the same things."

"I myself wonder," I said,-why this is." "There is nothing to wonder
at," she replied; "the reason is that one part of love is separated off
and receives the name of the whole, but the other parts have other names."
"Give an illustration," I said. She answered me as follows: "There is poetry,
which, as you know, is complex; and manifold. All creation or passage of
non-being into being is poetry or making, and the processes of all art
are creative; and the masters of arts are all poets or makers." "Very true."
"Still," she said, "you know that they are not called poets, but have other
names; only that portion of the art which is separated off from the rest,
and is concerned with music and metre, is termed poetry, and they who possess
poetry in this sense of the word are called poets."

"Very true," I said. "And the same holds of love. For you may say generally
that all desire of good and happiness is only the great and subtle power
of love; but they who are drawn towards him by any other path, whether
the path of money-making or gymnastics or philosophy, are not called lovers
-the name of the whole is appropriated to those whose affection takes one
form only-they alone are said to love, or to be lovers." "I dare say,"
I replied, "that you are right."

"Yes," she added, "and you hear people say that lovers are seeking for
their other half; but I say that they are seeking neither for the half
of themselves, nor for the whole, unless the half or the whole be also
a good. And they will cut off their own hands and feet and cast them away,
if they are evil; for they love not what is their own, unless perchance
there be some one who calls what belongs to him the good, and what belongs
to another the evil. For there is nothing which men love but the good.
Is there anything?" "Certainly, I should say, that there is nothing."

"Then," she said, "the simple truth is, that men love the good." "Yes,"
I said. "To which must be added that they love the possession of the good?
"Yes, that must be added." "And not only the possession, but the everlasting
possession of the good?" "That must be added too." "Then love," she said,
"may be described generally as the love of the everlasting possession of
the good?" "That is most true."

"Then if this be the nature of love, can you tell me further," she said,
"what is the manner of the pursuit? what are they doing who show all this
eagerness and heat which is called love? and what is the object which they
have in view? Answer me." "Nay, Diotima," I replied, "if I had known, I
should not have wondered at your wisdom, neither should I have come to
learn from you about this very matter."

"Well," she said, "I will teach you:-The object which they have in view
is birth in beauty, whether of body or, soul." "I do not understand you,"
I said; "the oracle requires an explanation." "I will make my meaning dearer,"
she replied. "I mean to say, that all men are bringing to the birth in
their bodies and in their souls. There is a certain age at which human
nature is desirous of procreation - procreation which must be in beauty
and not in deformity; and this procreation is the union of man and woman,
and is a divine thing; for conception and generation are an immortal principle
in the mortal creature, and in the inharmonious they can never be. But
the deformed is always unharmonious with the divine, and the beautiful
harmonious.
"Beauty, then, is the destiny or goddess of parturition
who presides at birth, and therefore, when approaching beauty, the conceiving
power is propitious, and diffusive, and benign, and begets and bears fruit:
at the sight of ugliness she frowns and contracts and has a sense of pain,
and turns away, and shrivels up, and not without a pang refrains from conception.
And this is the reason why, when the hour of conception arrives, and the
teeming nature is full, there is such a flutter and ecstasy about beauty
whose approach is the alleviation of the pain of travail. For love, Socrates,
is not, as you imagine, the love of the beautiful only." "What then?" "The
love of generation and of birth in beauty." "Yes," I said. "Yes, indeed,"
she replied. "But why of generation?"

"Because to the mortal creature, generation is a sort of eternity and
immortality," she replied; "and if, as has been already admitted, love
is of the everlasting possession of the good, all men will necessarily
desire immortality together with good: Wherefore love is of immortality."

All this she taught me at various times when she spoke of love. And
I remember her once saying to me, "What is the cause, Socrates, of love,
and the attendant desire? See you not how all animals, birds, as well as
beasts, in their desire of procreation, are in agony when they take the
infection of love, which begins with the desire of union; whereto is added
the care of offspring, on whose behalf the weakest are ready to battle
against the strongest even to the uttermost, and to die for them, and will,
let themselves be tormented with hunger or suffer anything in order to
maintain their young. Man may be supposed to act thus from reason; but
why should animals have these passionate
feelings? Can you tell me why?"

Again I replied that I did not know. She said to me: "And do you expect
ever to become a master in the art of love, if you do not know this?" "But
I have told you already, Diotima, that my ignorance is the reason why I
come to you; for I am conscious that I want a teacher; tell me then the
cause of this and of the other mysteries of love."

"Marvel not," she said, "if you believe that love is of the immortal,
as we have several times acknowledged; for here again, and on the same
principle too, the mortal nature is seeking as far as is possible to be
everlasting and immortal: and this is only to be attained by generation,
because generation always leaves behind a new existence in the place of
the old. Nay even in the life, of the same individual there is succession
and not absolute unity: a man is called the same, and yet in the short
interval which elapses between youth and age, and in which every animal
is said to have life and identity, he is undergoing a perpetual process
of loss and reparation-hair, flesh, bones, blood, and the whole body are
always changing. Which is true not only of the body, but also of the soul,
whose habits, tempers, opinions, desires, pleasures, pains, fears, never
remain the same in any one of us, but are always coming and going; and
equally true of knowledge, and what is still more surprising to us mortals,
not only do the sciences in general spring up and decay, so that in respect
of them we are never the same; but each of them individually experiences
a like change.

"For what is implied in the word 'recollection,'
but the departure of knowledge, which is ever being forgotten, and is renewed
and preserved by recollection, and appears to be the same although in reality
new, according to that law of succession by which all mortal things are
reserved, not absolutely the same, but by substitution, the old worn-out
mortality leaving another new and similar existence behind unlike the divine,
which is always the same and not another? And in this way, Socrates, the
mortal body, or mortal anything, partakes of immortality; but the immortal
in another way. Marvel not then at the love which all men have of their
offspring; for that universal love and interest is for the sake of immortality."
I was astonished at her words, and said: "Is this really true, O thou
wise Diotima?" And she answered with all the authority of an accomplished
sophist: "Of that, Socrates, you may be assured;-think only of the ambition
of men, and you will wonder at the senselessness of their
ways, unless you consider how they are stirred by the love of an immortality
of fame. They are ready to run all risks greater far than they would have
for their children, and to spend money and undergo any sort of toil, and
even to die, for the sake of leaving behind them a name which shall be
eternal. Do you imagine that Alcestis would have died to save Admetus,
or Achilles to avenge Patroclus, or your own Codrus in order to preserve
the kingdom for his sons, if they had not imagined that the memory of their
virtues, which still survives among us, would be immortal? Nay," she said,
"I am persuaded that all men do all things, and the better they are the
more they do them, in hope of the glorious fame of immortal virtue; for
they desire the immortal.

"Those who are pregnant in the body only, betake
themselves to women and beget children-this is the character of their love;
their offspring, as they hope, will preserve their memory and giving them
the blessedness and immortality which they desire in the future. But souls
which are pregnant-for there certainly are men who are more creative in
their souls than in their bodies conceive that which is proper for the
soul to conceive or contain. And what are these conceptions?-wisdom and
virtue in general. And such creators are poets and all artists who are
deserving of the name inventor. But the greatest and fairest sort of wisdom
by far is that which is concerned with the ordering of states and families,
and which is called temperance and justice. And he who in youth has the
seed of these implanted in him and is himself inspired, when he comes to
maturity desires to beget and generate.
"He wanders about seeking beauty that he may beget
offspring-for in deformity he will beget nothing-and naturally embraces
the beautiful rather than the deformed body; above all when he finds fair
and noble and well-nurtured soul, he embraces the two in one person, and
to such an one he is full of speech about virtue and the nature and pursuits
of a good man; and he tries to educate him; and at the touch of the beautiful
which is ever present to his memory, even when absent, he brings forth
that which he had conceived long before, and in company with him tends
that which he brings forth; and they are married by a far nearer tie and
have a closer friendship than those who beget mortal children, for the
children who are their common offspring are fairer and more immortal.

"Who, when he thinks of Homer and Hesiod and other
great poets, would not rather have their children than ordinary human ones?
Who would not emulate them in the creation of children
such as theirs, which have preserved their memory and given them everlasting
glory? Or who would not have such children as Lycurgus left behind him
to be the saviours, not only of Lacedaemon, but of Hellas, as one may say?
There is Solon, too, who is the revered father of Athenian laws; and many
others there are in many other places, both among hellenes and barbarians,
who have given to the world many noble works, and have been the parents
of virtue of every kind; and many temples have been raised in their honour
for the sake of children such as theirs; which were never raised in honour
of any one, for the sake of his mortal children.

"These are the lesser mysteries of love, into which
even you, Socrates, may enter; to the greater and more hidden ones which
are the crown of these, and to which, if you pursue them in a right spirit,
they will lead, I know not whether you will be able to attain. But I will
do my utmost to inform you, and do you follow if you can. For he who would
proceed aright in this matter should begin in youth to visit beautiful
forms; and first, if he be guided by his instructor aright, to love one
such form only-out of that he should create fair thoughts; and soon he
will of himself perceive that the beauty of one form is akin to the beauty
of another; and then if beauty of form in general
is his pursuit, how foolish would he be not to recognize that the beauty
in every form is and the same! And when he perceives this he will abate
his violent love of the one, which he will despise and deem a small thing,
and will become a lover of all beautiful forms; in the next stage he will
consider that the beauty of the mind is more honourable than the beauty
of the outward form.

"So that if a virtuous soul have but a little comeliness,
he will be content to love and tend him, and will search out and bring
to the birth thoughts which may improve the young, until he is compelled
to contemplate and see the beauty of institutions and laws, and to understand
that the beauty of them all is of one family, and that personal beauty
is a trifle; and after laws and institutions he will go on to the sciences,
that he may see their beauty, being not like a servant in love with the
beauty of one youth or man or institution, himself a slave mean and narrow-minded,
but drawing towards and contemplating the vast sea of beauty, he will create
many fair and noble thoughts and notions in boundless love of wisdom; until
on that shore he grows and waxes strong, and at last the vision is revealed
to him of a single science, which is the science of beauty everywhere.
To this I will proceed; please to give me your very best attention:

"He who has been instructed thus far in the things
of love, and who has learned to see the beautiful in due order and succession,
when he comes toward the end will suddenly perceive a nature of wondrous
beauty (and this, Socrates, is the final cause of all our former toils)-a
nature which in the first place is everlasting, not growing and decaying,
or waxing and waning; secondly, not fair in one point of view and foul
in another, or at one time or in one relation or at one place fair, at
another time or in another relation or at another place foul, as if fair
to some and-foul to others, or in the likeness of a face or hands or any
other part of the bodily frame, or in any form of speech or knowledge,
or existing in any other being, as for example, in an animal, or in heaven
or in earth, or in any other place; but beauty absolute, separate, simple,
and everlasting, which without diminution and without increase, or any
change, is imparted to the ever-growing and perishing beauties of all other
things.
"He who from these ascending under the influence
of true love, begins to perceive that beauty, is not far from the end.
And the true order of going, or being led by another, to the things of
love, is to begin from the beauties of earth and mount upwards for the
sake of that other beauty, using these as steps only, and from one going
on to two, and from two to all fair forms, and from fair forms to fair
practices, and from fair practices to fair notions, until from fair notions
he arrives at the notion of absolute beauty, and at last knows what the
essence of beauty is.

"This, my dear Socrates," said the stranger of Mantineia,
"is that life above all others which man should live, in the contemplation
of beauty absolute; a beauty which if you once beheld, you would see not
to be after the measure of gold, and garments, and fair boys and youths,
whose presence now entrances you; and you and many a one would be content
to live seeing them only and conversing with them without meat or drink,
if that were possible-you only want to look at them and to be with them.
But what if man had eyes to see the true beauty-the divine beauty, I mean,
pure and dear and unalloyed, not clogged with the pollutions of mortality
and all the colours and vanities of human life-thither looking, and holding
converse with the true beauty simple and divine? Remember how in that communion
only, beholding beauty with the eye of the mind, he will be enabled to
bring forth, not images of beauty, but realities (for he has hold not of
an image but of a reality), and bringing forth and nourishing true virtue
to become the friend of God and be immortal, if mortal man may. Would that
be an ignoble life?"

Diotima is a female seer who plays an important role in Plato's Symposium.
Her ideas are the origin of the concept of Platonic love. The
inscriptions carved into the plinth in Greek and English are a dialogue
between Socrates and Diotima. The bust was a gift from Professor Hubert
Whitfeld and his wife, Frances, as a companion to the sculpture of
Socrates.

Portland stone
The University of Western Australia Art Collection, gift of Professor Whitfeld, 1936